~ words and picture of and by an artist friend.
It started like the roar of a steam engine, slowly climbing the curves of an imposing mountain.
Wrestling gravity.
Waiting, wanting, yearning for the descent.
The sweet enveloping green of the valley below.
Faster.
Determined.
The movement of your fingers in flawless unison with the deep groans that were my last words.
Echoing, as if the sky were a closed arena.
Our bodies bare for some unknown audience.
Fireworks.
A pull, a thrust, a perfect explosion.
Just perfect.